Page:Frank Owen - The Wind That Tramps the World (1929).djvu/108

 great house in the moss-grown swamp remained shrouded in mystery.

Sometimes a tiny man was seen to emerge from the gates of the swamp-garden, a stoop-shouldered little figure always dressed in grass-green clothes. His age was problematical. In size he was a child, nor did his bland expression, an expression of dreamy detachment, suggest age yet there were numerous wrinkles about his large bulging eyes and the texture of his skin was like parchment. As he walked through the crooked winding alleys of Canton he seemed unaware of the sea of life surging about him. He muttered and murmured continuously. Sometimes it seemed as though he were reciting verses. Even in that quaint city of mystery and romance, he aroused interest. Many turned to stare at him. His feet were huge and he was flat-footed. He padded along like a great green frog. So everyone thought. And in time 'The Frog of Canton' was discussed almost as much as the unknown Fu Hsi, keeper of the swamp-garden.

Occasionally the queer little man stopped for a pot of tea at the tea-house of Pu Chiang, tea flavored with the blossoms of honeysuckle and as he sipped the fragrant beverage he breathed deeply of the sweet aroma. Time after time Pu Chiang who was a garrulous talker endeavored to inveigle him into conversation but sans result. The Frog-man was interested solely in his own meditations. This piqued Pu Chiang extremely. His curiosity was vast nor did the little man do anything